


I Feel So Empty

by filikesfleury



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Bittersweet?, Boston Bruins Ensamble, Goalies, Love Triangles, M/M, Random POV Changes, adam gets hurt tho, angst but not really since i cant really write, breif description of fights, charlie is 22 here, incorrect time lines, its a mess and probably isnt well writen but im in love with it so its fine, nothing too bad, set in the 2017-18 season but the timing of everything is changed because thats how i work, timmy schalls still exists too
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-27
Updated: 2019-12-27
Packaged: 2021-02-25 22:01:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,459
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21982588
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/filikesfleury/pseuds/filikesfleury
Summary: My hair started to stick to my forehead as the rain started to splatter down to earth harder and harder. A cold breeze blew around me, but I ignored my shivering body. I sat down on my knees, my bare skin freezing in the wet, ice-cold mud. I held his shirt closer to my chest, the Bruins tee obviously now covered in dirt. The trees started to droop, the orange lights illuminating the pathway.
Relationships: Anton Khudobin/Tuukka Rask, Jaroslav Halak/Tuukka Rask
Kudos: 6





	I Feel So Empty

We’ve been yelling for hours. In this small, absent of joy building, drained of all of the love that once was living inside of us. Our fights never got physical, and we have sworn they never will. We don’t let our work push us out of what we have, or what we did have. 

Funding wasn’t a problem before, but it seems like our money has left due to the “accident.” Just the fact that buying necessities for our job behind the other’s back seemed almost like sacrilege. It’s not even the expenses that have been the main problem, just the fighting, the hiding of our conversations has been getting tiring. 

The idea that I can’t text anyone without him right next to me just bothers me. I’ve told him that things have been taking a dip but he seems too caught up to listen. I’ve been tempted to just quit it altogether, and leave the team, my friends, basically my family. We’ve come so far into our relationship, it’s kind of like we need each other, more like I need him. 

It wasn’t just money either, we are professional athletes for god's sake. But with nothing in hockey being private, and the rookies looking up to us as if we were some sort of headless monster or god, nothing would be swept under the rug. I couldn’t have a drink with anyone without it taking a toll on our relationship.

I still need him. Probably more than he needs me.

The room is dark, as the moon is gently shining through the curtains onto the tabletop. It is about 11 at night, and he is going off about how I should be working. There is one last home game tomorrow, before the Christmas break and the push for the playoffs, and I feel sick to my stomach at the thought of being in goal. 

As the yelling from the other side of the door begins to quiet, I listen more into what he is saying. 

“What is he trying to do? It’s not like I’m playing with three people rooting against me and everyone yelling at me! I can’t trust anybody anymore!” A crash could be heard as glass smashed and more noises filled with anger ran out. 

‘I can’t trust anyone anymore’ rattled around my brain. I’ve been trying to be as open with him as I could, and yes I have made more than one accident. A long string of Russian profanity escaped his mouth, filling the air only to be blocked by the door. 

“I don’t think I can live like this. Not now at least,” Another small crash could be heard before complete silence. The silence had a toxic, choking nature to it. I leaned closer to the door, my ear pressed flatly there. I could hear a few pacing footsteps before the door to the en suite bathroom opened.

I heard it slam as I finally released my breath, realizing that I had been holding it. I slowly opened the door to find the bathroom door shut, but the light was still flickering underneath it. 

I skated across the hardwood floor in my socks and found the door locked. I heard the door unlock and quickly went to scurry away, but was suddenly basked in the light from the bathroom. 

“What are you doing?”

“I heard a crash and just wanted to make sure everything was okay,” I quickly replied, trying to avoid any yelling that might occur. 

“Tuukka,” His voice was the softest I’ve heard him speak all year. I strained just to hear him. 

“Thanks,” He pushed passed me and walked over to the dresser to grab himself a shirt. I stood there still staring into the bright light of the bathroom.

“Hey Anton,” I began, my body still facing the harshly lit lights of the bathroom. I thought I could see him out of the corner of my eye turning. “Are you leaving?” I immediately regret the words flowed out of my mouth, but they’ve already settled into the air. 

Anton is silent as I hear him open a drawer and pull out clothing. I didn’t turn but I could still hear him zip up a bag. I turned around to see him leaving the room, slamming the door behind him. The noise of the door closing barely sounded like a slam, more of a...goodbye?

I stand around, mouth open as if to speak, wanting to chase him, but the noise of his old car rattles down the street telling me I don’t have a chance. The house feels weird. I pace around the room, needing to make some honey-filled tea. 

Coach had yelled at him, in a way that I would have never thought that Bruce was capable of. Anton’s face which was almost always filled with joy had vanished. The little noises that he would make as he walked around the hallways had slowly disappeared. But they’re all gone now. Everything was gone.

As I sipped my tea that is probably filled with more sugar than Willy Wonka's veins, I crept up into the room, looking around to see what traces of him were gone. 

He had left one shirt, and a good handful of things used to calm headaches and ice limbs. I looked around the house a little bit more. His bear that normally sat perched on his pillow on his side of the bed was gone. I walked to the front door to open it and look into the hallway. Once I saw nothing, I closed the door and leaned against it. 

I took my head off the door I looked down upon the small shallow bowl that we both put our money in. The only thing I could see was the dust collected at the bottom. As I made my way to the kitchen, looking for something that would calm me down I opened the cabinets. I noticed a new sticky note on top of the box of mysterious Russian herbal tea. It was as if he was planning on leaving for a long time.

If that was the case, for how long? How long has he been planning on leaving me for good? Has he been unhappy for the entirety of our relationshi-? I really should stop thinking about this. My cup of tea has started to grow cold in my hands, probably from the shaking of my body.

I finally pour my cup of tea down the sink, a stinging sensation from the green tea still lodged in the back of my throat. I scampered back to the shared bedroom and rifled through the drawers. I quickly dressed into a large worn out Bruins tee and some shorts before falling into the bed.

If only I could have Anton in my arms. I feel so cold, yet everything around me is so warm, I feel like I’m about to get a heat stroke. If only I could be comforted by his sent, his overall aura. There is a small part of my brain, focusing on how I still want him with me, how I have his shirt in my closet.

I decide against my judgement and go collect the shirt mocking me in the closet. It was an old, very faded shirt with the Russian emblem and ‘Go Russia’ written in Cyrillic.  
I felt the anger steadily rise and boil inside of me like a pot of tea left unattended. I stumbled into my room, screamed and threw the shirt away from me In a fit of reckless fury. What I didn’t realize was that I had thrown it out the open window and it was slowly starting to sprinkle. 

I stared dumbfoundedly outside before it clicked in my head. I jumped up from the ground, pushing my hands off of the barrier of the windowsill and into the hallway. My journey to the street below my apartment was all a blur, running down hallways with my limbs blocking anyone that stumbled in front of me. I made it outside to find the shirt soaked and covered in mud in the middle of the road.

My hair started to stick to my forehead as the rain started to splatter down to earth harder and harder. A cold breeze blew around me, but I ignored my shivering body. I sat down on my knees, my bare skin freezing in the wet, ice-cold mud. I held his shirt closer to my chest, the Bruins tee now covered in dirt. The trees started to droop, the orange lights illuminating the pathway. 

The rain started to slow, ideas and thoughts were muddled. Screams only echoed around the deserted shell that was my brain. Nothing more, nothing less. No sounds could escape. It was as if the pitter-patter of rain and the occasional swosh of a car were the only noise generating.  
I don’t know how long I sat there. I don’t know how many cars went past or how many patrons looked in horror, or disgust. The North End isn’t bad, but everyone here knows who I am and how I act.

“Tuukka, Tuukka!” Patrice lowly grumbled, getting out of his car. I looked over to him, my vision blurred by tears. I clutched the shirt closer to me like the French Canadian was about to steal it from me and throw it away.

Patrice looked to me and opened his car door, his arm beckoning me to get in. He probably said something too. I nodded and clambered in the back door, sitting next to a car seat. He looked over me before he shut the door, noticing that I was barefoot and covered in splotchy mud from my knees down. He sighed and lowered his head into the car as he sat down.

I held the shirt to my chest, sealing my lips. All I wanted was to sleep and to hold Anton’s hand. There is a small portion of my brain that tells me that Patrice knows what’s going on. He knows that Anton left me. 

“Breathe, Tuuks. We’ll get you some help.” Patrice looked back at me and gave me a wry smile. I tried to smile back before looking down at the shirt and feeling more tears prickle my eyes.

After a while of looking out at the wet landscape and trying to keep in any emotion form seeming out of my body, Patrice parks his car in his driveway and opens my door.

“Thanks, Bergy.” I offer my gratitude as I grab the grocery bags from the other side of the child’s car seat. Patrice nods and places a hand on my back before reaching for the bag of muffins.

We both walk into his house, a light on in the kitchen-straining its use to try and light all of downstairs. Stephanie greeted her husband with a kiss on the cheek and walked over to me.

“Tuukka! How are you?” She smiled a great big smile and gestured me to sit at their kitchen counter. “I haven’t seen you in a long time.” I nod and hug Stephanie, feeling grateful that I now have a female figure that cares for me more than I do for myself.

“Dadda?” A tiny voice comes from behind me. “Is Marchy he- TUUKKS!” Zack creeps down from the steps, wipes his eyes and runs over to me. He runs over as I slip down and out of my chair so I’m eye-level with him.

“Hey, Buddy!” I exclaimed. it’s the first enthusiastic conversation I’ve had in a while. Patrice looks down at his son, then back to his wife, then to the stairs. Finally, he crouches down to speak.

“Bébé garçon, what are you doing?”

Zack looked up with wide, bleary eyes. “Dadda, I had a nightmare,” His voice cracked and got softer. Stephanie walked over to Patrice. 

“Do you wanna talk about it?” Zack shook his head and buried his face in my chest. 

“Can I tell Tuukka?” His voice was muffled but it was the loudest thing in the room. Stephanie nodded before realizing that her son couldn’t see him. 

“You can but after that, I’ll have to tuck you into bed.” Zack pulled his face out from my shirt.

“Okay!” Patrice scooted over and planted a kiss on Zack’s forehead before giving me a head tap and getting up to walk back into the kitchen. Stephanie followed placing out a muffin on a plate on top of the counter giving me a pointed look.

We both moved to the living room. Zack moved across from me, sitting crisscrossed and looking up at me with glossy eyes.

“I had a dream that Mamma and Dadda didn’t want m-me anymore. So they had wrapped m-mee up in a towel and left m-me on the side of the road. Jake took me, walked me home in the r-rain!” His voice cracked on the word ‘me’ and he rubbed his eyes before reaching over to my side and hugging me.

I sat there dumbfounded. I quickly looked over to the couple who were chatting quietly, concerned painted on their faces. Seconds later, I feel like my ears couldn’t pick up any more sound. I looked back at the young child in front of me and hugged him. 

“Don’t worry. Your mama and dadda love you very much. They are just busy with work and, you know, adult stuff.” I tried to soothe the young child. 

“Just like how Anton is busy with work and stuff?” 

I stared at the child a minute as tears slowly returned to my vision. I nodded and hugged the child closer to me, like a teddy bear; as if he was the only thing keeping me stable. “Yeah. Just like Anton…” 

Zack hugged me before pulling away with a sad smile. He patted me on the shoulder and exclaimed, “Thanks Tuukks!” Zack ran back to his parents and grabbed his mother’s hand. Stephanie smiled at me and took her son back upstairs. Patrice walked over to me and sat down on the plush carpet. We sat in silence for a while before Patrice patted me on the shoulder. “What was his nightmare?”

“He thought that you and Steph didn’t want him anymore and were gonna leave him on the street wrapped in a towel,” I replied with, glancing over at Patrice. Patrice stared in horror. “Don’t worry, I told him that you guys were just busy with work and won’t get rid of him.” 

“Oh my god, is that what he’s thinking of?” Patrice looked down to the carpet, his face dripping into a confused frown. 

Steph clattered down the stairs and threw me a wet rag. “You are covered in more mud than the dog. I’ll get you some socks for your frozen feet.” I thanked Steph and started to wipe down my legs. 

Patrice got up to grab a pair of socks from the laundry room. He smiled and patted my shoulder. “Here. Now get some sleep,” Patrice told me after a minute, standing up and walking down the hall. 

I traipsed down the hall, my socked feet calloused and sore. Patrice points into the guest room and flips on the light switch for me. The rain patters onto the window as I graciously climb into the bed. The lights flicker off with a wish of goodnight from Patrice. “Bon nuit.” The last thing I feel is my feet throbbing with pain.

***

The locker room was in utter chaos. Only two players laughed amongst themselves. Patrice held his head in his hands. Krejci looked as if he hadn't got a full 8 hours of sleep in the past 7 years. Zee held his head up, it looked as if he had something to say, he probably did. 

Coach walks in. His eyes are exhausted orbs, filled with worry and stress. It looked like his hair started to thin even more with all of the stress. The door creaks closed, everyone is holding their breaths. The greatest thing about Bruce is his coolness. The fact that he is calm, or somewhat calm in any situation. So, everyone wants to know what the man will do in this light of the problem.

The practice was tiring. Heads ache, muscles burn and sweat is dripping from hair. They even made everyone run Suicides. Tuukka felt pressure bubbling in the bottom of his stomach, his head starts to hurt with the first step of Bruce’s feet.

“Why?”

Everyone looked up at the sound of Bruce’s voice. “Why were you all so lazy today with your suicides, eh? Should we make you do more of them? What’s the deal with you all? You could do-”

“Ever thought about how we might have something going on?” Tuukka roared, still having trouble catching his breath. “Ever thought about something besides your own life? Your pride!” 

Everyone was silent as they looked back and forth from Tuukka to Bruce. Bruce looked shocked by Tuukka’s sudden outburst but soon his emotion was disguised as he tried to stay calm. Tuukka glared at him, almost threatening him. 

“Personal problems are not to come to practice,” Bruce growled, his voice rising. 

“Sometimes you can’t help it!”

“Well, you better learn too before I get someone to kick you off the team!” Bruce screamed at the goalie. 

“We both know that you wouldn’t do that,” Tuukka said as if to kick the carcass again. The whole room was silent as the ‘rookies’ looked from Bruce to Tuukka and back. They have never heard Bruce outburst in a way that was harming his players and was surprised that they witnessed such a rare event. 

The older hockey players were surprised by Bruce’s outburst. Zee looked up, shocked, Patrice shook his head and swiftly stood up.

“ALL TEAMS GO THROUGH A SLUMP! We know that we’ve been playing hockey for years! Dieu aide moi!” Patrice yelled. The rookies were shaken in their skin. They looked back and forth, some of them shrinking in their stalls.

As everyone was silent, due to the passing of all of the commotion, the door opened up very slowly. Heads snapped in that direction. Patrice strode from his position, standing in front of his stall and walked around the spoked B, over to the huddle of rookies.

“That’s what all of this noise was!” Sweeney knocked down the door and walked in. Bruce whipped around, his eyes still burning with rage and disappointment.

“I could have sworn that someone was dying in here!”

“Honestly I welcome that now.” Torey breathed. The rookies snapped over to look at him, a face of horror plastered on their faces. It was as if the rookies were a bunch of sensitive cats.

Don shook his head before looking over to the fuming goaltender and coach. “What in God’s name is happening?” A rookie wanted to speak up, however as Patrice claimed his new spot he placed his hand gently on the rookie’s wrist.

“I’m just having a discussion with my boys,” Bruce said through gritted teeth. Don looked defeated.

“Just talking, eh?” He glared between Tuukka and the Head-Coach before settling his gaze back on Tuukka.

“You!” He pointed sharply. “You have been playing like bull. Do you have anything in this world to bail you out this time?” Tuukka flinched at the words but glared at Don, square in the eye. “I’m considering sending you down, the AHL would make a great place for a grieving man.” The word grieving struck like a poison-filled dart. “We have plenty of goalies in the system who would kill to have your position. We don’t know where Khudobin went and at this point, I don’t care. If he isn’t going to play then we aren’t going to keep him.”

Everyone switched their glare over to Don. Tuukka opened his mouth but he was cut off before a squeak could come out.

“You do not speak when I do. Why are you so hung up over a pathetic boy? He isn’t even thinking about you. You shouldn’t bring personal issues to practice, just so you can make your teammates suffer wrath from.. from you and your fake lover boy. That’s probably why he left you-” Don screamed.

“DON’T YOU YELL AT TUUKKA!” Pastrnak got up from his stall and walked over to Tuukka, tears dripping down the goalie’s face. “At least he can play while you are here, sitting on your zadek, yelling at us to do everything! You couldn’t do half of what Tuukka can. Stop acting like you know everything because guess what? You don’t.” 

A few other of the rookies started clapping, Pastrnak turned around to look and see how Tuukka was doing. There was a little thin layer of guilt and sadness that washed over his body. In a snap, his mood changed and he was bubbling with rage, thanks to Don’s rampage.

Tuukka got his skate out from in his bag underneath his seat. He ripped off the blade cover and threw it halfway across the room. With some quick maneuvering, the screw came out and Tuukka held the thin sheet of metal in his hand like a stick.

“Oh no, Tuukks don’t do it,” Patrice warned, in a bored, monotone voice. A few snickers could be heard before Zee scowled at them.

“He shouldn’t assume things. Especially things that aren’t true!” His voice was laced with venom and hatred.

Tuukka threw the skate in Don’s general direction. Of course, Don didn’t realize that Tuukka would do it and ducked on instinct. The skate flew past his head and hit the brick wall. It bounced off the wall before hitting McQuaid in the arm. 

Tuukka’s anger calmed down a little bit, but the room sure as hell didn’t. Adam covered his arm, cussed and then sauntering from the room over to the medical closet.  
Don stared at Tuukka, his eyes blazing as his hand curled into a fist. Bruce watched the two silently, realizing even Don had gone a bit too far. Tuukka stared at the two in silence as tears slowly rolled down his face. He turned around and exited the locker room, quietly closing the door behind him. 

Tears started to stream down the Finn’s face. He didn’t even try to hide them or hold them back. He ran out and into the lot. He finally got to his car, jiggled the keys and pulled out of the rink’s parking lot and onto the highway. He’ll still be in town by driving for a while. The sun started to leave the sky, the street lights and car lights started to add to the deep purple and yellow hues. 

Tuukka’s phone was hooked up to a charging cable. He wiped his eyes and left his skin blotchy and red, there was no point trying to clear his skin from a meltdown.  
He coughed to clear his throat a few times before looking back up at the road, rolling down his driver’s side window. The wind started to comb through Tuukks’ curls.

“Adam?” Tuukka choked out as the beeps on his phone came to a close. 

“Yeah? Hey Tuukks,”

“Adam, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have let my emotions get the better of me.” Tuukka rushed out all of his words as he stared down the clear lights and light grey asphalt. 

“Hey, Tuukks! It’s okay, I’m fine, I’m really fine. I’ve had to go through worse, it just stings a little bit.” Adam attempted to help soothe Tuukka.  
After the call ended. Tuukka left his phone sitting on his dash as he continued to drive around Beantown. Adam kept making little noises of encouragement, a calming effort they were.

Tuukka turned onto an exit then to another road, parking close to a bakery. He sat in the parking lot, breathing and trying to figure out if what Don said was true. Was he hung up over a fake lover boy? Was Anton gone forever? How much did Anton kno-

Tuukka sat in silence, waiting for something to happen. What did he want to happen? Oh, I don’t know, maybe Anton finds him and tells him everything's okay. But hey, that’s probably not possible is it. He looked around and found a little smidge of paper left in the car by Anton, and started to cry once more.

‘I love you-  
Anton’

___

Anton curled up in his small hotel room. Everything that he took with him was sitting on his chair, his phone was laying by the window and the dark lights danced around. He grumbled as he rushed over to grab his phone and stare down to see if there was a printer in this hotel. He realizes that he can just use his phone when he’s at the airport, but too many times has everything not worked out.

The organization probably won’t want him anymore. Great, time to find another team and set up a new life there. 

A pit starts to open up in his chest, but it’s suddenly closed with random thoughts. Most of them are talking about how tired he is, a few, however, have to do with the fact that this is now what he wants. Maybe he can find a girl when he gets over to Russia. That’s what he needs to do. Create a new family, fall in love and not talk to anyone in America.

He shakes his head as the alarm clock on his bedside table starts to tick louder, as if that is even possible. Anton got up and laid his head down on the pillow, his Teddy Bear digging into his elbow. He drifted off to sleep, his head swirling with un-certain final decisions.

***

Anton woke up started, his clothes somehow unwrinkled from the nap that took place. He zipped out of bed and started throwing his stuff in a bag. He closed the bag, grabbing his money and stuffing it into his pocket. He put his teddy bear on his back and headed out the door, locking it and leaving the key on the bed. 

The drive from the hotel to the airport went by in a flash- adrenaline suppling for thoughts. Snow-covered any remnants of anything, footprints, grass, car tracks, and the sky.  
You could hear the rumbling from many planes about to take off and soon an announcement was made that the plane for Russia was about to take off. Anton slowly stood up and made his way into the line to board the plane. He ended up getting a seat in the back, away from any socialization. 

His teddy bear was in his arms as he sat down in his seat, pulling out his headphones and switching to a playlist that reminded him of warm-ups. He listened to it for a while before throwing the earbuds away from him. Anton hugged his teddy bear closer to him, the playlist making the whole situation seem sadder by the minute. 

***

The flight landed after 12 hours. Anton had been thinking about life and how his teddy bear was his only friend. He had left all of his stuff in a small hotel, checked out to himself for a few days.

He arrived at a snow-covered path which was only a few miles from the airport. He walked along in the snow until the music started to drift into his ears. The atmosphere was so inviting, little kids holding hands and swinging in their parents’ arms. A light mix of slush fell from the sky, making the drink vendors so happy.  
The brick buildings stood so tall, the colours that were placed around were so vibrant yet so muted at the same time it played tricks on Anton’s brain. A few carols could be heard, they crawled into his ear and sat there, making himself hum the Russian tune. It felt good to be surrounded by the sounds of home. A couple could be overheard picking out Christmas presents. 

Anton felt as if this was artificial. That the laughing was made by a machine. That this couldn’t exist. As if this was a fake output of emotions. As if this wasn’t and isn’t reality. His mind was second-guessing him.

It was playing tricks on him, making him feel sad when he wasn’t. But as he walked around, and stood at the corner of a small square of paved brick it all fell away.  
But he put that aside, he put all of his negative thoughts aside, the moment he saw a little girl. She was dancing in the middle of the ally, with her head held up high, and a smile brighter and shinier than the Stanley Cup. Glossier than freshly scraped ice.

He stumbled away, feeling that he should keep his head held a little bit higher. He got himself a cup of tea and started to walk around, the paths illuminated by fairy lights, and he started to wonder, again, if he made the right decision. 

There was a chance looming that he would become an outcast. As if he wasn’t one right now. He was partially worried that the team, the city would disown him. 

The last thing he wanted was to be an outcast of the city.

He wandered around the Christmas Market and stopped by a few food vendors, his cup of tea in his hand. There were small, microscopic snowflakes falling on his head but they were enough to make his hair freeze up. 

Anton came upon a few vendors and decided to buy a baked potato with pickles and mushrooms. He grabbed his food and walked over to a bench to sit down and eat.  
He felt at peace in the light freezing slush/snow mix that fell from rooftops above. It was a calming effect mixed with dancing from a few little girls, the vendors placing their items for sale. 

Everything seemed to be devalued. It was then, in fact, a reason that he could get so much for so little. It should seem like the other way around. But that was another reason why his brain talked to him in conflicting emotions.

His idea was to walk around, get a few small presents for the few rookies and then something for Tuukka, something small. A few more moments of wondering if he made the right choice came back into his head.

Why even bother getting him a gift. He doesn’t love you anymore. There is no point. You’ll just show the team how desperate you are, how hopeless you are without him.  
He shied out of those thoughts and continued to walk down the paths. He hummed and stomped louder anytime that he felt his thoughts overcrowding his brain too much. He had to stop a few times to let people make sure he knew that he was coming through.

Anton went looking around for a small gift for Tuukka. The market was to close very soon due to the time that Anton hadn't realized that passed. All of the children slowly disappeared from the market with their families. Vendors were starting to lock their stuff up and the overall din of the music started to quiet down.  
He let the heavy falling snow cover his hands as they were folded in his pockets that were soaked. He held the one bag of Christmas stuff for the rookies in one hand, his other messing around with a small slip of paper.

Anton picked up the pace, trying to look for something that would fit well for the Finn. He had stumbled by a small little stand that had a few jewels and marble shards here and there. He explained to the vendor that he wanted a gift for his girlfriend who he had gotten into a disagreement with. After a little while of chatting, Anton purchased a ring that reminded him of Tuukka’s eyes.

He wanted to make everything better, he wanted to let Tuukka know that he still loved him and that Anton was an asshole for just leaving like that. Anton thought the only way to let Tuukka know that was by buying material things. 

After wandering around for a little bit, the Russian found a hotel and checked in. He went to his room with a large black shopping bag. He shimmied out of his jacket, draped it on the chair and put on a pot of coffee before laying the bag of stuff for the rookies and Tuukka on the bed. 

He got all of the other players hats. Different types of cozy, woolly hats. He purchased Pasta some small wooden toys. He bought Jake a ceramic mug that probably will either be cherished, worn out or broken by the time that he leaves the team. Cheeks got some Russian gingerbread. And two boxes of tea, to hide in the medical room that all of the trainers seemed to hide out in. They needed tea if it seemed that their room was the only place they lived. 

Rain is drizzling out from the sky and it’s splashing into the carpet below the window in the room. A puddle starts to form but it surely will be gone before morning arises.  
Anton nods to it to acknowledge that it is there and that he probably should shut the window, but all he does is shimmy out of his shirt and flopped onto the bed. He then picks himself back up to head by the coffee maker. 

He grabs a cup from the cupboard underneath and fills his cup just about all of the way to the top. He pours in a bit of cream and a small sprinkling of sugar before he downs the cup in a few minutes. He wipes his mouth on the back of his hand and wanders around his room for a little bit.

The noise of the rain slowly but surely lulls Anton to sleep, the honks of horns below make him feel that much safer. His teddy bear finds its way snuggled up in the crook of Anton’s neck. 

The Russian drifts off to sleep, the flick of raindrops still harshly hitting the window and dripping onto the floor. His mind keeps wandering over to Tuukka and how he was doing.

Stop thinking about him, he doesn’t love you anymore. There is no reason to be hungover this Finn. Go to sleep, you shouldn’t lay awake thinking about that horrible man. He doesn’t love you anymore. You don’t love him. Take a break. That’s why you’re here, isn’t it?

Anton sat up not wanting to deal with his thoughts anymore. He started to pace around the room. The room dropped a few degrees as the rain started to blow in from the open window. Anton tried to slam the window shut but ended up catching his finger between the window and the window sill. 

Anton picked up his phone and opened the window. He stood in the freezing puddle underneath the window. For a moment, something lurched in his gut, making him think that he shouldn’t throw his phone out the window, just how much damage that it would do.

Instead, he googled the Bruins, notifications already have blown up his phone. What he got back was worse news for wear. “Boston Bruins have signed Jaroslav Halak to a two-year deal.”

Anton looked around the hotel room before laying on the bed in despair. His head was swimming with thoughts that he couldn’t catch. His phone sang a tune that told him he was going to Dallas, but he didn’t want to go. He felt himself crumble.

___

Tuukka tightened his tie and looked around the visiting locker room one last time. The season had ended, the game was finished, they weren't moving on to the Eastern Conference Finals. Instead, they were sitting in the locker room, Jaro latched to Tuukk's arm and a past fire burning brighter than ever.  
Everyone was excited for what was to come next, everyone was feeding off of the past like cows on pasture but the kids were excited for how things would shake out. Everyone was, including Jaroslav Halak who wrapped his arm around Tuukka's neck and straightened his tie just because he could. 

Back then those were flings and small little messages. But they meant so much to both goalies and had a lot of effort coursing through them. Zdeno used any chance he got to figure out how Jaro valued life just to pass it on to Tuukka. Rask wanted to know how to treat someone right, and it wasn't obsessive. Love you's were translated into Slovakian and Finnish. Smiles lit up against the other side of the screen. 

It started way back when Jaro was drafted by the Canadiens and the hate that came with the two teams was blazing heat. Jaroslav was a slightly older player and had liked to learn about other teams in the league. He was fascinated with how the game worked and how other goalies perform. He was amazed when this cocky Finn showed up for the Bruins, curls and attitude all wrapped in his pads. Jaroslav just couldn't look away, tracking the man's stats through the AHL, just as he did with all other goalies. He just didn't let his teammates catch him looking.

But, Tuukka started looking back. After practices in Montreal and Boston. There were stolen glances one entire week. The teams chalked it up to 'weird goalie stuff' but none of them knew the meaning behind what wasn't said aloud. 

Then it was to St Louis. The season that Tuukka won the cup. He was somewhat drunk when he texted Jaro, a quick greeting with a small flirt. Then it blossomed from there. Jaro was just settling in his room, back home, smiling at the TV. However, anytime something made the smallest noise he turned it off; afraid that someone would catch him. A few days after the game, a beautiful message crept its way into his heart. Well, it wasn't written well but it sure as hell was something. 

Then, for the short time in Washington, Jaro thought that it was fun to fly to Boston on off days, sneak around the city and try and hang out with his friend and fellow goalie. Presumably, either team didn't know. Yet, Washington's management didn't like that (or his playing) and sent him to New York where the Islanders treated him like a god for a short while. 

And now, Tuukka has a partner as they are walking out of Amalie Arena, with their heads lowered and hands clasped. Maybe next year, echoed louder than the Tesla Coil. Maybe next year. 

Tuukka squeezed Jaro's hand before letting it drop to get aboard the bus. Jaro gave him a small smile and followed suit, climbing aboard before heading to the airport. "You know, we did well." Tuukka hummed quietly, turning around to look at Jaro. Jaroslav straightened his body and looked Rask in the eye. 

"I want to talk to you when we are back in Boston. In the apartment." Tuukka let his back slouch.

"Babe.." He whined softly, rubbing his right eye with the back of his hand. Jaro took his free hand into his and kissed the back of it before letting it drop as if it was hot.

"When we get home," Jaro said, firmer this time. Tuukka puffed out an annoyed sigh but turned back and walked to his spot on the bus anyway. Jaro stood there, his hands clasped together keeping his breathing steady as he made his way to his spot on the bus, right beside Schaller. 

The entire ride to the airport was a long one that had Tuuks glancing out the window the entire time. He rested his head against the cool glass of the window, trying to block out all of the commotions that happened behind him. There wasn't anything extravagant; just jokes from the forwards that wanted to lighten the mood. Someone, presumably Backes, was facetiming Carlo to tell him how the game went. 

Tuukka's eyes felt like lead, they kept dropping but he forced them open. No one should be able to have the chance to see him vulnerable. He wanted to hurt someone; he wanted to yell and scream but he didn't have the power to do so. He felt horrible for the way that he acted. Whining to someone he cares about is a natural reaction to a loss this powerful that Tuukka was ashamed of. 

He looked back through the streets of Tampa Bay, the streetlights dancing around like small pieces of confetti. The trees seemed to droop with disappointment in the light breeze in the humid air. The starter felt like he was drowning. He gasped against the window, making sure that he was getting enough air through his system. Tuukka felt that he didn't have someone to hold on too. He had Jaroslav, but at this point, there was no time to create new gossip. Going out with a bang is not what he wanted, not at all.  
Tuukka looked over to Charlie in the seat across from him, he seemed to be consoling himself; talking to himself with murmurs of a job unfinished. Tuukka felt a pang in his heart. He didn't want the defenseman to be alone, which was what was unfolding in front of him. 'Bus seats be damned.'

Tuukka took a deep breath before sliding in the seat next to the 22-year-old. "Cheeks?" The goalie's voice timid and caring; the first time that those two adjectives could be placed together for a while. 

Charlie turned to Tuukka with a gaze that made Tuukka think someone killed Charlie's puppy. His wide eyes red and puffy with tears; he felt like he couldn't help the team. That he didn't do well in the game, he wasn't there to block enough shots. He felt like he betrayed Tuukka.

"Ye-eah?" His voice caught on the words. He swallowed the new wave of tears and looked into Tuukka's eyes. e was searching for some reassurance; something-anything that could make him feel better. His eyes darted around Tuukk's face, wanting to find any sign of comfort that he could. Rask decided that words weren't the best fit for this interaction. He slowly leaned in and extended an arm to wrap around Charlie. Tuukka felt only slightly weird comforting his defenseman but realized that this wasn't about him. 

Charlie sighed and laid his head on Tuukka's shoulder, leaning into the embrace with tears flooding back to his vision. Tuukka rested his head on the younger guys. Tuukka looked out on the streets of Tampa Bay for one last time. Well, the streets weren't there; just plains and small houses as they made their way closer and closer to the airport. Tuukka let his eyes closed as he gave another reassuring squeeze to Charlie. Charlie reciprocated. Charlie laughed and hugged Tuukks once more before slipping past him and joining Jake in a lighthearted conversation about cows. This was going to be a long plane ride. 

The transition to the plane was smoother than one tired goalie would have expected. The three-hour flight had started and it wasn't even two in the morning. The team's sleep schedule was fucked, but at this point, it would only take a few seconds for it to slowly regain its path. Tuukka managed to drink about half his weight in water, his brain floating around in a lull of content. The plane finally rolled down the tarmac and took off, everyone preparing for the trip back. 

Tuukka took out his phone, once they were flying at a steady pace and looked at his messages. He managed to read most of them, a good chunk telling him how he played and that there was always the following season. Tuukka's fingers swiped through most of the messages, putting them in his archive to find later on when he's had more sleep; or a smaller cloud of emotions floating around his head. 

/you up?/ 

Jaroslav's message triggered a small 'bloop' to signal to Tuukka. The Finn rolled his eyes with a small, reserved smile and double-tapped on the message.

/yeah, why?/ 

Three little dots came on the screen, the triplets varying in stages of colour as the message was being typed out a mere 30 feet away from him. 

/I love you/

Tuukka felt his lips turn into a smile for the first time since he got with Anton. He was finally safe. He felt appreciated and loved. He was loved. He knew how to love. And that was all that mattered. 

/I love you more/

**Author's Note:**

> this isn't great but I started writing it in 2018 and decided to pick it back up and finish before the decade is over. please let me know if you find any mistakes or things like that. kudos and comments are appreciated and I would love to know what you guys have to say about my crap :)


End file.
